


Divine Right

by daisydactyl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Female pronouns for Grell, Gen, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisydactyl/pseuds/daisydactyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little interaction between Grell and one of her victims during her Jack the Ripper days, a look into her thoughts and feelings as she works on making her prey as pretty as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Right

Such fear in the whore’s eyes, Grell relished in the sight. This was one she was to handle on her own -- at least for the time being. Anne would join her later for the surgical parts, but until then the fun was all hers to have. 

She had to keep the girl gagged, too many screams would draw too much attention. Even so, she could still hear those glorious choked sobs and feeble pleas for her life and that brought an almost sick sense of peace to her heart.

Wasn’t this her divine right? Didn’t she deserve just a moment of peace in this hell of an eternity she had been dealt? Of course it was.

"Now now~ if you scream so much right now your voice will be all worn out by the time we get the  _real_  party.” Her voice came out in teasing tone, a slender finger reaching out to tilt the other’s chin up towards her. The way her tears dripped down her face made the monster in chest roar, she had no right to cry.

She threw away all the things that Grell would’ve given up anything to have, didn’t she realize great a gift that was? Of course not, humans took everything for granted. They didn’t realize that in a way even their death was gift. 

When she came for them every chain and shackle that had held them down was released, they were set free. All the things that trapped them, everything they’d ever wanted to run away from, every heartache and every rush of anger, her kind took them all away. 

In that way she might’ve been being merciful at this moment — but of course she wasn’t a merciful woman, she wouldn’t let her die until she absolutely had to.

Her scythe would come last, first she wanted to watch the way she reacted to pain, and she would make it slow and agonizing. First she’d start small, and gradually she’d make this whore unrecognizable. 

"You know~ I wasn’t supposed to be like this. No no, I could’ve been so much better if I hadn’t been cursed." She didn’t know why she was talking like this, but she didn’t really care either. She took one of the scalpels, for a moment staring at her reflection in the blade before she turned her attention back to the struggling mass of flesh before her.

"Isn’t it unfair? The fact that everything I should’ve been was taken away before I even had a chance to grasp it?" As she spoke she brought the blade right down the center of her chest, a wild grin spreading across her lips. She relished in the way her scream was muffled by her gag and how she went stiff from the pain as her blood seeped from the wound. 

"Tell me, do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up and hate what you see? To go through every day of your life  _knowing_  that you’re trapped in your own skin!?” Her teeth clenched tightly before she stabbed her scalpel into the girl’s arm in rage. “No, of course you wouldn’t.” 

Grell gave a roll of her eyes at the way the other struggled and cried, how pathetic. With her blade still lodged in flesh of the girl’s arm she pulled it down, staring intently as the wound poured blood and let her see in beneath her skin. The way the blade cut through her layers of skin, fat, and muscle seemed to soothe her. The pain she gave to this whore was only a fraction of what she’d already experienced and what she  _would_ experience through the rest of eternity.

How she adored those thrashing movements and those muffled cries, this was her right to dole out some of the pain she felt. This woman threw away her child, (and Grell was certain this wasn’t the first one) didn’t even consider how blessed she must be, just threw it away like it was nothing. She and every other ungrateful whore deserved this pain, otherwise they could go through their pathetic lives free of consequence and then be released into Death, and it wasn’t fair. 

She jerked the blade out of the arm, her eyes wide and mad as she stared down at the open wound. “You’re disgusting.” She spat, turning rapidly and letting the blade slice into her cheek. She dropped the scalpel, replacing it with a heavy cleaver instead. Why should  _she_ have a beautiful  _feminine_  face? She didn’t deserve it.

Another muffled scream followed by cries and tears of pain, perhaps some pleading for her pathetic life. 

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed in anger and she grabbed at a cleaver to swing it down into the girl’s leg. “ _ **Do not call me ‘Sir’ you filthy tramp!** ”_ She screeched with her swing. She wasn’t even certain that’s what this girl had been trying to say, but she didn’t care right now, she was beyond anger already.

She started to angrily hack away at her leg, eyes wide with rage and a barely perceivable trickle of tears.

“ _YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS IS LIKE! YOU COULD NEVER EVEN HOPE TO UNDERSTAND! NO ONE WILL SEE ME AS I’M SUPPOSED TO BE AND I WILL NEVER HAVE WHAT I WANT, WHAT I_ _NEED_ _! AND YOU, YOU HAVE WHAT I WANT AND YOU DON’T EVEN DESERVE IT! THIS IS NOT HOW I’M SUPPOSED TO BE! I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE TRAPPED LIKE THIS! I’M SUPPOSED TO BE A GOD BUT I CAN’T GIVE MYSELF WHAT’S MOST IMPORTANT TO ME!_ ”

Finally she stopped, chest heaving with every breath, face, clothes, and hair splattered with blood. Her eyes were glassy and she could vaguely hear those pathetic little whines, but she couldn’t take that same joy in it just yet. 

Breathing a slight sigh she gave a shake of her head, lifting a leather clad hand to wipe her fringe away from her eyes, smearing the blood on her face in the process. Her eyes were a cold fire, they peered down at her victim with a deep disgust and anger, her grip on the cleaver tightening. 

"I bet you’d like nothing more than to die right now wouldn’t you?" She asked, the corner of her lips pulling into an open mouthed, wild looking smirk. "If you were anyone else you might’ve died by now, but you see  _I’m_  not going to let you, no I want you to  _feel_  everything I’m going to do to you, you’ll be so much prettier when you’re nothing but bloodied flesh.” 

Gods she loved how  _alive_  those eyes looked when they were filled with agony and fear. Perhaps she’d gouge them out, but she’d wait until for that. She looked down at what remained of her leg with a vague sense of interest, taking in the way the white of her bones peeked out and tendrils of flesh hung down in a bloody tattered mess. For a moment she crouched down to further inspect her work, giving an approving nod at the sight of little nicks in the bone. She thought her work was off to a good start.

She tapped the dull side of the cleaver against her leg as she stood again, turning to look at the other tools Anne had left her with. As she lifted a razor her thoughts turned to Anne. Oh how she loved her, but sometimes she thought that even she didn’t really understand. Sometimes, she thought that even Anne saw her as she wasn’t, as a  _man_.

No, it wasn’t the time to think on that. They were the same, two women doomed to an unchangeable fate that made life feel like living in hell. Then again, Anne’s hell would be over eventually but Grell, her hell showed no signs of ever ending. She would not have the sweet release of death, she was truly a doomed God.

Breathing another low sigh she turned back to her prey, eyes roaming over her form. Still so much left to destroy before Anne would be joining her, but that was alright with her. 

"You see, I am forced to live as something that I’m not. I have to try and make the best of my situation, because if I don’t -- well then I’m certain I’d just fall apart at the seams. But I hate it, I  _hate_ that when I look in a mirror I want to shatter it, I  _hate_ that every time I see a child I am reminded that I can never know the joy of being a wife and a mother, I  _hate_ that  **no one** will listen to me when I try to say that my body is a prison, I  _hate_ that everything I do is contested, I  _hate_ that anything that I do or say is just used to try and prove me wrong, I  _ **hate**_ it all _ **.**_ " As she continued speaking her voice began to shake and her grip on the razor was so tight that her hand shook. She didn’t know why she was unloading all this, this useless information that weighed on her constantly. 

Giving an angry shake of her head she slashed the razor across her chest, ripping into the breasts she wore so brazenly. She relished in the pitiful cries that could just barely be heard, she’d wait on severing her vocal cords, she wanted to enjoy this as long as she could. A grin spread across her lips, the points of her teeth gleaming dangerously in the darkness. Now she’d have to work a little more carefully to draw this out the way she wanted.

She grabbed roughly at her clothes, pulling them out and drawing her razor down them. Eyes roamed over the newly exposed skin, even more canvas for her to work with. She would paint her pain, her sorrow, her anguish, her  _ **anger**_ , and she would paint it in flesh and blood. She wanted the world to know what festered inside her, to know that there was a punishment to be had for those who would take something so precious for granted.

Her eyes flicked up to her prey’s for the moment, drinking in the absolute terror inside them. Her smirk widened before she drew the flat side of her blade up her stomach, giggling at the way she flinched away. She could practically  _feed_ off the fear that was rolling of this whore in delicious waves.

Without word or warning she flipped her blade and drew it across her stomach, making sure not to cut too deeply just yet. She made sure to go slowly, watching every jerk and jump that her prey gave from the pain of having her flesh sliced open. For now she would stick to just going just deep enough to split open the skin, she’d turn the muscles and organs in a little while. Besides, the skin often felt the most pain anyway, she should make the most of it while she could. 

She really shouldn’t be getting so worked up right now, it would take all the fun out of her little game. She wanted to be able to watch this one suffer, to enjoy the sight and the feeling it brought to her heart — and of course this was only part of the game, the other part was bringing Anne down with her, having someone to hold onto whenever she started to spiral down. This game helped to keep her from falling apart, it was a necessity.

If she were to let herself understand the gravity of her situation, well then she’d have no hope at all. After all, what could she really do? Everyone called her declarations nothing but a flamboyant cry for attention, or just a joke. They called her psychotic, unable to see what she really was. They took everything she did and threw it back into her face as proof that they knew better than she did what she was. It was enough to drive anyone over the brink. What was worse, in the part of her mind that wasn’t a constant swirl of anger and madness she  _knew_ that there was nothing she could do to change her fate.

Had she been human then perhaps it could’ve been more manageable, humans can die and that’s the end of all their problems, but she couldn’t die on her own. No, she had all of eternity to spend in the prison of her own skin. That knowledge constantly ate away at her, gnawing at every little part of her until she felt a raw unbearable anguish in the very core of her being. 

She always tried her best not to think on it, if she lived in the now and lived her life on a moment by moment basis, then at least she could pretend that it wasn’t completely hopeless. She could pretend that maybe someday, in some extraordinary way, she could find a way to change the hand she’d been dealt.

 Her focus was back on her trembling prey now, and she wanted to get just a little more personal. She held her razor loosely, loftily lifting it above her head for a moment. Suddenly a wide, mad grin spread over her face, made more terrifying from the blood smeared across her skin. A gloved hand shot forward, fingers plunging into the wound she’d left in the girl’s stomach. 

Another weak sounding cry, the little thing must’ve been feeling exhausted from the blood loss, but Grell was going to make certain she still had  _plenty_  of time to live. She wanted to make sure she felt everything she had in store.

Razor teeth bared themselves before her prey as her fingers curled to grip at the edge of her flesh before she gave a slow pull towards herself. The whore was getting to weak to thrash about now, but oh how she tried to, body stiffening and eyes wide with a delicious look of the purest agony and fear. Grell leaned in to loom over her, watching every twitch and taking in every emotion that passed over her face as she slowly pulled her abdomen apart with her hand. 

A sudden flash and her razor had cut another line down her skin, this time to open up more of her stomach until the skin Grell held in her hand was like a curtain over a doorway. “Shhh shhh no need to look so pained darling~, it’s just flesh after all~.”

With a slight huff she pulled away, lips pursed in thought as she stared down at her work. There was still so much flesh left untouched, but how to go about ripping it apart was on her mind. She wanted to get the most out of this, and while she certainly would’ve enjoyed letting her prey try to run and chasing it down, she knew she didn’t have that option at the moment.

She much preferred being able to enjoy the thrill of the chase, but for now she’d settle for the pleasure in a torturous death.

A gloved hand reached out for the cleaver again, her other hand reaching out to draw a fingertip over its bloodied blade. For a moment she caught sight of her reflection in the blade, she looked a mess. However, it seemed to soothe her for a moment, the way the dark blood contrasted so nicely against her pale skin and made her look all the more beautiful.

The cleaver swung down into the girl’s side, nicking her arm in the process. Grell’s free hand shot out to grab her throat, keeping herself a little bit steadier as she hacked away at her side and her arm, chunks of flesh and blood falling to the floor with thick sounding splashes. She swung her weapon high and brought it down hard, relishing in the little twitches of pain from her prey.

"Heh, it’s so funny isn’t it? There are going to be people who will see what I’ve done, and I bet it still won’t be enough to get my point across. No matter what I do or say it just never seems to be enough for anyone. Tell me, does that seem fair to you?"

She paused a moment, ignoring what little sounds her prey still had the strength to make. Without warning she brought the cleaver down into her shoulder, expression saddening for a moment despite the relief of feeling blood spatter against her skin.

"It’s just never enough. I am who I am, but they don’t care, it doesn’t matter what I have to say because they’ve already decided what I am to them. They’ve decided that even I say again and again that I wasn’t supposed to be born like this, it doesn’t matter because of reason or another. Something I might’ve done, or something I might’ve said, all they need is one time and then they try to negate what I feel. They don’t understand. They don’t understand at all! And neither do you! NONE OF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THIS  _ **HELL**_!”

As her volume grew so did her ferocity, her teeth tightly clenched as she hacked away at the girl before her. She didn’t even care what she was what hitting now, she just wanted to release all of the things that stirred and festered inside her. This was good for her, a way to let go of everything just for a moment. 

All the while she never closed her eyes, she wanted to burn all of this into her memory, to see a physical representation of what was inside her. This was her right, a divine right at that! If she was to be cursed like this for an eternity then she had every right to make someone see what it was like, to make her anguish known, to rip the flesh of mortals who could be granted the gift of death that she couldn’t have. 

There was nothing wrong with what she was doing, everything she did here was within her right.

Her hand the held the cleaver in a tight grip reached up to push her hair back as she stared down at the whore with a fire of disdain in her eyes. Such a plethora of wounds that would’ve left any other human dead long ago, but she wouldn’t be letting that happen.

Hard ringed eyes roamed across her work, taking in the stark white of bones peeking out from beneath ripped flesh. It was so gloriously grotesque, the way that blood pooled everywhere and bits of skin, fat, muscle, and even organs littered the ground in little fleshy mounds. She drank in the way tendrils of flesh hung loosely from limbs, the way her entrails were  _almost_  completely spilling out. Truly she was a work of art, for more beautiful now than she had ever been before. 

Her hand reached up and roughly grabbed at her jaw in a vice grip, forcing her prey to stare into the fires behind her eyes. They eyes of her prey were so glassy, so exhausted, they  _begged_  for death, oh it was such a wonderful sight.

Now it was time a different approach, besides she imagined her little free-time of fun would be drawing to a close soon. She let the cleaver fall from her hand and land on the ground with a dull thud. She would need something more precise for this. 

Her eyes searched out for a moment before they found what she needed, yes the scalpel would do perfectly for this. Reaching down she brought it up to her face, giving a smirk and chuckling scoff at the way the whore’s eyes widened just the tiniest bit. Her grip on her jaw tightened just a little, she wanted to be sure she could stare into her eyes while she worked on painting her ugly face.

She started with the temple this time, drawing the blade down her face as slowly as she possibly could, all the while her teeth were bared in a terrifying, hellish grin. The way her prey’s eyes shook with fear made the monster in her chest purr with delight, the power of her fear was absolutely intoxicating.

The way her blood dripped from her face almost looked like tears, how fitting. Now she brought the blade down in slow deep lines, moving across her face at an agonizing pace. She took extra care to push deep into her cheeks until she pushed all the way through them, the entire time her eyes never left the ugly ones of her prey. 

When she was satisfied with the thought that no one would be able to recognize her face now she let go of jaw, her grin still plastered to her face. “You’re turning into a beautiful work of art you know, perhaps you should be thanking me for that.” She said mockingly as she adjusted her gloves and stared down at her handiwork.

There was one more thing would need to be done now, and then Anne could take over from there. Grell would have to make that final slice and then all she would have to do is collect the soul. 

The razor would be best for this part. As Grell searched the bloodied ground for her tool she heard the sound of a door opening and stiffened for a moment, uncertain if someone other than the one she needed would be there.

"I see someone’s been having fun in my absence then."

She relaxed again with relief when she heard a familiar voice. Her hand gripped at the razor as she stood, her smirk returning to her lips before she turned to face her partner. “You’re just in time darling~ I’m just about to make that little incision for you~.” She purred, eyes glinting mischievously.

She watched Anne moving forward, watched the way she reacted to her work. She was almost certain she saw a momentary flicker of disgust and perhaps fear, but that was alright such feelings helped to ensure their partnership went the way she wanted it to go. 

True Anne was beautiful but Grell was certain that their hearts beat in the same rhythm, felt the same pains and anguishes, desired the same things, that’s why she stayed. The chances of finding a spirit so like her own were so rare, she simply couldn’t let this one pass her by. But of course Grell wasn’t a fool either, she knew it was possible that her beloved Angelina could fall away from the path they’d set out on, could let her  _humanity_  pull her away, and she was determined to keep that from happening.

As Anne came to stand beside her Grell pushed such thoughts aside for the time being. She gave a quick shake of her head to get her hair out of the way before she crouched forward, letting herself come face to face with the true extent of her work. She stared for a moment, taking in all the damage that she had done, truly she was proud of it.

Oh well, there was no time for things like that. She brought the razor up, keeping her hand steady as she started at the hip, digging it as deeply into the flesh as she could, and all the while hoping that she could at least scrape the bone a little. Then it was a slow and steady movement as she moved the blade through the lower abdomen and all the way to the other hip. She made sure to appreciate the way the blood cascaded down from the wound, the way it washed over the leather of her gloves and how the layers of skin, fat, and muscles seemed so much more distinct in this wound than in any of the others.

It was just grotesquely beautiful to her.

Once she pulled the razor away she pushed herself back into a standing position, she’d have to wait for a moment until it was time for her final part. This was Anne’s moment to release her own feeling the best way that she knew how to, she did it with precision and almost numbly, but such was the difference between them.

She always loved to watch this part, to see the way her beloved Anne pulled out the very thing that had been stolen from her and what  _she_  had never been blessed with in the first place. That precious organ that held all their hope, but also all their despair, so completely bittersweet.

It seemed that time moved so slowly when Angelina finally pulled forth their goal, their shared dream and pain. Grell watched it with hazy eyes, trying to push away the emotions that wanted to force their way to the surface once again.

"Well that’s another one then. God just look at this Grell, this pathetic little organ that I wish so desperately that I could have back, this little bit of flesh that had something so precious ripped away from it." Grell could hear her voice shaking, but she thought it best not to comment on it for the moment.

"I know darling, fate is a cruel thing to  _both_ of us, but this is a step closer to redemption, one less whore to walk through the streets and squander the gift she has.” She spat with disgust, moving forward to perform her final part in their little dance. 

Anne begrudgingly moved out of her way, stepping into the background and still clutching to her stolen, pathetic prize of flesh. Grell moved in front of her, her motions swift and fluid as she stared down at their finished work. It was absolutely stunning, their prey wasn’t even recognizable and she’d certainly never been more beautiful than she was now.

Breathing an almost contented sounding sigh she summoned her scythe to her side, feeling calmed by its weight in her hands. She gazed at it almost lovingly, it was one of her best accomplishments completely designed and created by her own hands, and its ferocity certainly matched her own.

She could admire her mechanical prowess later, she had something to do if this was going to make sure this was done right.

Her scythe roared to life in her hands, its blades whirring dangerously and its motor giving off soothing vibrations. Without hesitation or ceremony she lifted it up and plunged it into her prey’s chest, glad to see the record bursting forth around her. 

Of course she didn’t bother to actually look at it, she already knew everything that she needed to know. She just absorbed it away, glad that it was far too weak to even consider fighting back. Once it was all settled safely into her scythe she let dematerialize from her hands and stared almost fondly at the corpse before them. 

Of course she still had to move it, but that wouldn’t be a problem.

Pushing her hair back behind her shoulders she turned back to Anne, flashing her a demented grin that showed off the feral points of her teeth. “You run on ahead darling, I’ll dispose of this~.” She said, gesturing loftily to what remained of their prey.

"Very well, just be sure that you aren’t seen." 

"As if I would even  _dream_  of letting that happen, just leave it to me.”

Anne gave her a simple nod of her head, though Grell thought that her eyes lingered on the corpse just a moment too long. No, she didn’t want to think about her growing too weak for this, it would truly be a tragedy for them both if she did.

Once Anne was safely out of sight Grell stepped forward again, lightly running her gloved fingertips over the corpse. “You really are so much prettier this way.” She said offhandedly before she scooped what she could of the corpse into her arms, it would be deposited in the alley opening where it belonged. 

As she walked her heels clicked against the ground, the only sound left in the cold silence of the night. This was all she could do right now, the closest she could come to feeling any sort of relief from the bile that plagued her heart and mind. 

To feel this momentary relief was really the only divine right that she wanted to take right now. 

With the corpse dumped into the filth of the street her evening was finished, and she could only hope that the relief and weight off her shoulders would last for the rest of the night before her monsters would no doubt return to haunt her and push her farther into the darkness.

But such was the life a God imprisoned in her own skin.


End file.
